Counseling Maes
by FullmetalxChaos
Summary: The Army requires once a month counseling for all subordinates, even with Roy Mustang as his superior officer, in the case of Maes Hughes it's no exception. Set PreIshbal 2 Part Oneshot MaesxRoy [PART I UP] R


**A/N: This is a two part one-shot, at first I was going to jam the rest of the story into one document but later I changed my mind realizing that it wouldn't fit. It's a long one-shot but I'm in love with the idea which is why I wrote so much. Part II might take a little while because I need to decide what else will come next, this won't be a full story though just a small two part one-shot I have many more fics in mind so keep on tuning in ;D ... I hope that you all will be able to discern the flashbacks from the actual story I tried my best but tis hard.**

**WARNING: This story contains "slash" aka yaoi or male/male XD if you don't like, don't read...**

**Dis-Claim-ER: The form template used in this story is based off of an actual Army counseling form that I obtained from my JROTC program, so kudos && copyrights to the U.S. Army for inspiration. In addition to this Maes & Roy are on loan, that's right I had to sell my soul to get a deal this good xD**

Pleaseeee don't flame teh MaesxRoy pairing peeps, I know that Maes is married now but this is all set before Gracia so lets make believe for five minutes...kay?

* * *

In an empty house, to keep warm against the hidden chill, two young bodies pulled closer to one another. Two young boys were deeply nestled underneath the cover of a heavy comforter and several thick blankets because of the lack of clothes and body heat that they were currently experiencing. A boy with closely cropped black hair grinned as he nuzzled his face into the other scraggly raven-haired boy's neck. "See when I told you my parents were out of town I wasn't lying." A young Maes Hughes claimed as he begun to slowly nip a trail along the fragile near transparent skin of Roy Mustang's neck. Running a hand through his own very tousled hair, Roy found himself now fully believing Maes for the first time that night. "Alright already! I said I – _ahh…Maes_." Roy's statement was cut off as he found himself moaning at the older boy's ministrations.

The silent house seemed to close in around them, but they had yet to notice as wandering hands exchanged caresses and they began to really explore their bodies for the first time since they had reached the reasonable age known as adolescence.

"Maes that _tickles_!" Roy snapped as he tried to pull away from Maes. His attempts were to no avail, as Maes had already inserted his tongue within the shell of Roy's ear working vigorously to bother the younger boy. A strong pair of arms engulfed the smaller of the two, holding him firm and fast to the mattress. It didn't take Roy long to figure out that he was going to have sit still and wait out this blissful torture as he squirmed underneath Maes's strong hold looking for a way out.

"Hold still." Maes commanded between licks as fingers brushed dangerously low against Roy's waistline.

* * *

As the end of the month crept closer Roy Mustang had realized through a set of drowsy dark eyes that it was nearly that time again. The time of month when counseling forms had to be completed and than turned in the next day. It was a time that he both loved and despised because it meant that he would be able to assess all of his subordinates, to praise the ones that deserved it and to remind the ones that needed improvement. So it was that every single month on the 20th of the month Roy Mustang opened the battered black filing cabinet in his office that kept the counseling forms under lock and key, and removed one for each person underneath his command.

Today, on the 20th of October, was no exception from this habitual task. Roy was now reaching into the filing cabinet and withdrawing the folder. He was on his way out, it was dusk, and he had finished with all his work. Everything but one specific task had been completed and currently he was in the process of getting it done. The task was none other than the counseling evaluation of his company Lieutenant, Maes Hughes. Being well acquainted with Hughes, Roy was in the habit of bringing the counseling form to Hughes's apartment where the two would fill it out over a good round of whiskey.

The habit was sacred to them, it dated back to their first counseling session when they were fresh out of the academy and barely a week settled in. Than it had only been a joke, something that Maes had insisted on when he saw the stress that had begun to take up residence in Roy's daily routine. The prescribed remedy had worked very well and Roy soon fell into the easy habit of counseling Maes's in his own apartment with a bottle of whiskey between them. The habit grew on them, and soon at the conclusion of every single month on a Friday during the week of the 20th, Roy would arrive at Maes's apartment before sundown. The routine would than be carried on from the front door, to the kitchen table that was set with two glasses and a bottle of aged whiskey. The form was than produced and Roy would proceed to question Maes as their sobriety level decreased finally leading them to the inevitable state of drunkenness. Before they lost all sense of words and written language the form was completed and than signed, allowing both men to slip into the clutches of drunken oblivion.

It was no different this night of all nights, as Roy pulled on his black overcoat, popping the lapels up around his neck to keep out the cold. He stood and grabbed the folders that he had laid out on his desk, they brandished several complicated titles. The one thing all the folders had in common was that they were only pulled during counseling week. With this in mind, Roy knew that they fit the occasion perfectly as he exited the building with a manila folder tucked safely underneath his arm. He pulled his coat even closer to his frail frame against the biting cold of the winter air. The first signs that winter was starting to fall into full swing were now displayed outside; the appearing white slush-like snow on the sidewalks and shrubbery was now too obvious. The winter season couldn't hide much longer behind the fading cover of fall. The scenery begun to take on that decaying look that is exclusive only to the winter season, it was the kind that emphasized the naked trees and the cold grey sky.

Not bothering much with the display that the weather was putting on, Major Roy Mustang trudged his way along distancing himself from the back entrance of Central City Headquarters. His footsteps were sure as he moved in the direction of his longtime friend's apartment that was hidden away in the small apartment complex that had been reserved especially for commissioned officers. Hot breath floated from Roy's mouth in wispy clouds as he tried hard not to pant against the thin chilly air that winter had brought. Roy was able to appreciate the black military issue combat boots that adorned his feet even more as he was nearing the end of his trek across the east parking lot in the very back of Central HQ. The east parking lot was known for its vastness, it was a sea of black asphalt and emission soaked air fumes; one that succeeded in stretching for miles without an end. Roy was used to the walk because he too resided in the dark shadowy hallways with the cramped one bedroom apartments labeled officer housing.

Roy tightened his grip on the manila folder as he near the gated threshold that separated the housing portion of the compound from the main Headquarters. The metal sign that swung over the chain-link fence glimmered in the setting sun. It read:

**Central City Headquarters Housing**

_**Home of the 214**__**th**__** Eagle Battalion**_

**G. Patton Housing Community**

The sign offered no consolation from the chilling temperatures because Roy knew that he still had a ways to go. The officer quarters were actually closer to Headquarters than the Enlisted quarters were for more than obvious reasons. Officers were usually acting supervisors or managers, so they needed to be closer to Headquarters and their offices in case something went wrong.

The weather seemed not to be Roy's biggest concern as he passed a few saluting NCOs after stepping over the threshold. He languidly returned the salute, his own motions just as crisp and precise as the day that he completed boot camp for officer training. Roy knew the ways of the military too well in his own opinion, the senseless rules and regulations had been banged into his head for the past decade and he knew them all by heart. To his surprise this knowledge was one thing that the war hadn't succeeded in warping. Now matter how many wars, or how many different personalities seemed to clash, the laws laid down by the military would survive the test of time. Perhaps that was why the Flame alchemist was so adept at memorizing the meaningless thick rulebooks that had been slapped down in front of him as a recruit. Rules were something that didn't change, and that meant it was something that he could be familiar with and grow accustomed too. Rules were something that Roy could hold onto when the world that had been built around him insisted on coming crumbling down.

* * *

The first snow had already long fallen, and now Central city was seeing the severe after effects as Roy trudged through the last of the freshly formed slush bordering the streets inside the housing area. His long measured steps were precise and careful, they had to be in order for him to stay on his feet for the mix of asphalt and concrete underneath had yet to see a salting truck this winter. In the very near distance Hughes's apartment was visible, covered by the vast stretching shadows of the large apartment building. Stepping off the rusty sidewalk and crossing the deserted puddle-ridden street, Roy observed for the first time the setting sun in the sky. The brilliant orange, red, and yellow hues of the sky slowly consumed the stark grays and blues that had been dominant during the day. The fading light was enough to cause even the Flame alchemist to blink his eyes in adjustment. As Roy reached the other side of the street passing underneath an almost leaf-less oak tree, the shadows of the night begun to creep into view. The cold air threatened to grow colder as the light retreated into the unknown source of oncoming darkness.

The subtle steps of the Flame alchemist were barely heard across the soggy slush-logged sidewalk as he approached the nearby parking lot of the apartment complex that Maes resided in. The swinging of the weathered metal sign on rusty hinges, which stood in a very lopsided manner, announced to the world that he was now entering the Ulysses S. Grant Apartment Complex, that was reserved for young eligible bachelors who were junior officers during the day and than wild recruits at night.

The building was a modest looking one, with five floors of one bedroom, kitchen, and bathroom units, it was meant to house young officers who were still bachelors. The white paint of the building that was threatening to rust in several places gave the apartment complex an almost ghastly appearance in the dusk light. The green lawns surrounding the apartment complex were now speckled white from snow and slush. The grass was kept cropped short, and the bushes were trimmed to precision, nothing seemed to have changed since last month that Roy had visited the apartment complex. The place was strangely quiet though. Usually there were always a few small crowds of men sitting out on the balcony that stretched around the front of the upper floors, or else there were a few dozen men marching by in a tight formation on the sidewalks and streets alongside of the apartment complex. But there was no pandemonium of the sort today; everything was deathly silent as if the first breath of winter had already frozen the world over and everything in it as well. The bleeding silence out front of the apartment building was enough to surprise Roy and almost allow a chill of suspicion to creep through his body. _Could they know?_ The nervousness that always clutched at him whenever he walked over to Maes's apartment before the counseling session took place was always the first thing to go once he stepped inside the doorway. Maes's cheerful demeanor was enough to force him to shed all his outer suspicions of those around him. It was enough for him to allow his guard to drop for a few blissful hours.

Mustang was now walking into the large wide shadow of the building, as the back of the building was to the setting sun. It was now one large dark silhouette, like a cut out pasted against the dark crimson orange of the setting sky. Roy could now begin to make out the outline of the door near the far corner that was Maes's modest third floor one bedroom apartment. He allowed a slow grin to spread across his usually emotionless features for just a second as he neared the set of stairs at the side of the building. The staircase was attached to the building, clad in concrete, steel, and iron and inset into the side of it. It was an open staircase, a sad substitute for the all too expensive alternative of an elevator. As he got closer, he could make out the dark outline of Maes's door.

Setting the unopened bottle of aged whiskey on the table, Maes completed the last preparation for Roy's arrival. He found himself giddy with anticipation; he hadn't been able to really talk to his friend about anything in weeks. It was hard looking at Roy as his commanding officer now for more than a few reasons, he was older than Roy by a few months, and he had known Roy for most of his adolescent life. But he knew that he would adjust if given time. Things were getting easier, especially now since they had fallen into the bland routine that the military mandated for all its personnel. Maes picked up a few newspapers from the table, all dated sometime early last week. He had been following a few cases that he had found interesting, he was always following something, always on the trail of someone. It was just a hobby for him, because the majority of the time, he spent training with the company and Roy. They were preparing for something big, but they had yet to find out what exactly. Maes's best guess was something with the middle east, that part of the world had been seeing conflict after conflict the past couple weeks and the tension was only growing. It wasn't that Maes was afraid to go to war, it was just that he had no desire to fight a war that he wasn't personally waging himself. He wanted to be personally with fighting the conflict before he threw himself headlong into something, sacrificing his life for something that he didn't believe in the first place in the process. Life was to precious a thing to waste in his opinion. Besides he was too young to die just yet.

* * *

Roy came to a standstill outside the plain white washed door, the glossy coating of fresh paint that had been put there months ago was only just now beginning to dim with age. The door didn't have a knocker or a bell; it was the classic hackneyed design of the military – plain, white, and boring. Raising his hand to knock on the door, Roy wondered if Maes had remembered what today was. He had always remembered, it was an unspoken agreement between the two, something that was always set into motion on the exact same day at the exact same time every single month. Their arrangement hadn't once missed a beat since the first day that it had happened.

Knocking firmly several times, Roy stood in anticipation outside the door, fingering the manila folder underneath his arm. He could barely remember the last time that they had met like this, he had been too drunk at the time and even now it was just a haze.

* * *

Maes responded to hearing the knock right away, he knew exactly who it was and what he had come for. He couldn't help but allow himself a small smile before he stepped towards the lone door of his small cramped apartment.

With a few clicks, Maes drew the bolts and locks open on the door and than pulled it open slightly to reveal the stoic mask of Roy Mustang, his commanding officer. "Sir." Maes greeted, pulling the door open all the way, to allow Roy to pass through. The greeting had been somewhat mocking, for Maes had known Roy for most of their life and it was still strange to go around snapping off formalities, even if Roy did outrank him by a lot. It was growing harder for Maes to stand there before Roy, he had to fight with everything that he had not to lean forward and yank Roy by lapel into his apartment to pull him into a rough kiss. The image seemed very appealing to Maes, who had been having a serious lack of sex induced by an abstinence streak imposed by his new girlfriend. He allowed the thought to pass as he restrained himself from such a whimsical action that he knew would not be appropriate in the eyes of Roy Mustang – not when everyone was watching out in the deserted halls.

Maes stood before Roy, the flap on his uniform jacket hanging open in a lopsided manner, accompanied by Hughes's overall disheveled appearance as if he had slept in his uniform. The amused glint in Roy's eyes was one that couldn't easily be hidden; his navy eyes practically gleamed in the dull light of the hallway. But he didn't remark on Maes's appearance, it seemed at first glance that he barely took time to give Maes a second look.

"Hughes." Roy nodded in a familiar curt fashion as he pushed past Maes into the cluttered apartment. Old newspapers, bottles, and clothes hung in a jumbled fashion amongst the brown threadbare carpeting. The evening's wash lay forgotten in a hamper next to the washboard just peering over the utility sink. All this came into view as Roy entered the room, he knew that his friend lived in a disaster area, but right now it seemed worse than before. The familiar stink of take-out became more prominent when Hughes shut the door behind him. Roy cringed a little taking in the mess he was the epitome of a "neat freak." Roy knew that all the mess was for a reason. Maes had been studying for the intelligence entrance exam for the past month and a half, which was one of the main indicators of the mess. He had taken all his free time and put it towards studying for the exam, because he was planning to take it.

After Maes threw the locks and shut the blinds on the side of the door he followed Roy, who was just standing amidst the disaster area. Standing side by side the two men said nothing, because nothing needed to be said, they each knew what the other was thinking. In the dying amber light flooding into the room through the cracked blinds, the two men could be seen standing in front of the mess like victors from some unnamed battle. The fluttering rays fell across Roy's face as he allowed his eyes to wander for a moment to the face of Maes Hughes, his subordinate. He looked so much older than the first time that Roy had laid eyes on him; the lines were now becoming prominent in the Maes's face, the glasses were clouded with fingerprints, and the eyes appeared tired over dark circles. It was almost poetic.

* * *

Roy involuntarily bucked his hips at the contact of the cool hand, searching, grazing, and caressing his own warm skin. His own fingers were digging into Maes's back as he felt the close contact force all the blood in his body down towards his lower regions. He whimpered loudly when he felt contact being made, the pad of Maes's thumb was now rubbing hard against the sensitive skin of Roy's erection.

They had been young, they had been stupid, and they hadn't known any better back than.

* * *

Maes followed Roy into the kitchen; it was an unspoken tradition, a repetitive act, the same taboo over and over again. Roy placed the manila folder on the table and than shed his coat, allowing it to slide from his shoulders. He hung the black coat over his chair as he took a seat. The table was set like always with two glasses and a bottle of whiskey, on the surrounding counters there were two more bottles just in case one seized to do the trick anymore. Maes slide into the chair across from Roy, unbuttoning a few more buttons on his military jacket, finally feeling the warmth of the dusk-induced sun rays through the gray cloud covering.

Spreading the folder open on the table in front of them, Roy shuffled through a few papers until he found the form labeled:

**DEVELOPMENTAL COUNSELING FORM**

For use this form, see FM 22-100; the proponent agency is TRADOC

A little more digging revealed a second form, which looked exactly the same apartment from the fact that this one had been filled out. Reaching into a pocket in the black trench coat hung over the chair, Roy produced an ink pen and begun to scribble in very bad penmanship across the top of the form.

"Name: Hughes, Maes, A.; Rank/Grade: Second Lieutenant; Date; Organization: 214th B., Company C; Name and Title of Counselor: Major Roy Mustang, Charlie Company Commander." Roy recited the lines out loud as he moved his pen across the paper, filling in the designated sections. It was a habit, something to ease the pain and the fact that Maes was a lower rank than he was. Maes gave Roy a reassuring expression as he reached for the whiskey and popped the cork from the bottle pouring a generous amount into both of their glasses. The soft _cling _of the bottle against the wooden table was enough to inform Roy that he could continue.

Roy's eyes scanned the form blankly; it was one of his least favorite sections:

**PART II – BACKGROUND INFORMATION**

**Purpose of Counseling:** _(Leader states the reason for the counseling, e.g., performance/professional growth or event-orientated counseling, and includes the leader's facts and observations prior to the counseling.)_

"The performance and the professional growth of this individual are the grounds on which he is being counseled for this month. The Lieutenant has doubled his efforts to contribute to the company this month, and he has been doing extraordinarily well in raising the morale of the troops." Roy paused; a smirk formed tugging at the corners of his lips. "Refined bullshit as always." He muttered. Maes grunted in agreement as Roy wrapped his fingers around his cup, taking a quick drink before moving onto the next section.

**PART III – SUMMARY OF COUNSELING**

**Complete this section during or immediately subsequent to counseling**

**Key points of Discussion:**

The gaping white box waiting to be filled with Roy's particularly bad writing stared up at him from the hard wooden table. Roy took another few deep pulls at the glass of amber fluid before setting it back down on the table. The glass was now nearly empty, as Maes refilled it again, this time adding a little bit more for good measure.

"I could put 'Talks to much, lags when it comes to paperwork, obnoxiously friendly, spends the majority of daytime hours on the office phone, and forces himself upon others.' But I won't." Roy smirked lightly, by his voice tone it seemed that he was under the impression that he was going to go easy on Maes this time around. Shuffling a few papers around, Roy pulled out a similar counseling sheet with last month's date on it. "Last month I complained about your constant nagging, and the way that you spend too much time immersed in paperwork. This month's must be different. Let's see…" Roy muttered as he skimmed over the form, the alcohol was beginning to settle neatly within his brain for his eyesight was becoming extremely blurry, darting in and out of focus.

"This month can I be obnoxiously persuasive and notoriously handsome?" Maes allowed himself a very wide grin at the idea of putting all those qualities down onto paper. "This is the _complaints_ section, Maes, not the _compliments_ section." Roy chided clicking his tongue, before scribbling something down onto the paper. "Lacks sense of direction – is studying for the intelligence exams. Very poor reasoning skills when it comes to common sense." Roy chuckled softly at the last comment, which threatened to turn into a full blown laughing fit before Maes snatched the paper from his fingers.

"Lieutenant! Give that back!" Roy demanded his thin ivory fingers suspended in the air above his head reaching for the paper that was currently out of his grasp. Meanwhile Maes had stood up, pulling himself to his full height, he was now towering over Roy. The paper was clasped between two fingers as he skimmed over the lines that Roy had just written. "Pulling rank are we now?" Maes raised his eyebrows in Roy's direction for emphasis of the statement before he gently placed the paper back in front of Roy. "I do believe that you are trying to provoke me, Major." The paper was returned to the spot of table in front of Roy as Maes took his seat again, after confirming that nothing bad had been said about him on his own elevation.

Roy's navy eyes gave off an amused gleam from across the table as he snatched the paper up between two fingers and proceeded to write again. "What would give you that idea, Maes?" Roy asked sweetly as he went about scribbling a few more undecipherable sentences across the now filled box. "You'd better hope that this alcohol makes me forget, or else you'll be getting it later, Mustang." Maes replied trying to hold down a serious in his voice, but it wasn't working because a smile slid nonchalantly across his face. "We'll see about that." Roy mumbled as he stopped his pen at a point, making a very visible period at the end of a sentence.

* * *

Maes's fingers moved shamelessly across the very frail figure of Roy Mustang. No territory would be left unexplored tonight, a promise that both had made before enwrapping themselves into their current predicament. Maes's parents were gone for the whole weekend; it meant exactly one full day and night together without disturbance. Currently both boys were succumbing to those precious moments that were ticking away rather fast according to the fluorescent dial of the bedside clock.

The night had already begun to close in on the two young boys, whose motions were clumsy, quick, and without choreography. An inexperienced tongue prodded the tip of a very sensitive area on the young form of a blushing Roy. Roy's own fingertips were threading their way in and out of Maes's short black hair, giving tugs of encouragement every so often in addition to the already very loud and throaty moans.

The moment was perfect, it was everything that they could have asked for and more, and maybe that's why it had to end…

* * *

The glass was again pushed hard against Roy's lips as he skimmed over the words that he had just written. Maes was taking a swig from his glass too, and the bottle in the middle of the table was beginning to look rather empty. "For your strengthens I called you an intelligent, worthy, informed, and confident subordinate. For your weaknesses I'm going to say that you lack ambition, research skills, and the ability to decipher whether or not you should be employing office materials for your own personal gain." Roy summed up what he had written as he skimmed over the material again before turning the sheet off with a sharp snap of paper.

"You make it sound like I'm using your stapler to jack off or something Roy." Maes's voice was dripping with sarcasm as he looked through narrowed eyes at Roy across the table. Roy cocked an eyebrow at the challenge before replying, "So that's where my stapler _went_, or rather didn't go." The wide unmistakable smirk across Mustang's lips was what many said his trademark smirk, currently it seemed like just that. "Now if only you could be so creative tonight when I have you at my mercy." Maes retorted it was a challenge backed by another challenge, this time Maes knew that he was stepping dangerously close to "that line." It was the same line the two had established when they had begun their questionable ventures of exploring each other's bodies many years before. It was a line that was not meant to be crossed, and had not been drawn to be crossed. It was the separation of work and sex.

The dangerous look in Roy's eyes told Maes to stop. His mind was pushing to continue, to poke and probe Roy just a little bit more to quench his own curiosities, but he didn't. He knew that if he pushed any further the whole thing might be over in a blink of an eye, which meant that Roy wouldn't be staying the night and there would be no mindless drunk sex. So he stopped, leaving the thoughts for later consideration.

The two now sat in silence, navy eyes boring into a pair of citrine colored ones from across the small wooden table. The sound of stagnant silence rippled through the musky scented air. They might as well have been strangers staring at one another, hating one another for a split second across the long expanse of a train platform. But they were not. They were lovers, co-workers, superior and subordinate, best friends, and they together kept a dark secret that should probably never be unearthed by anyone.

* * *

The passion of the moment nearly made the two boys deaf to the sounds around them, but it also helped to heighten their awareness and their hearing. The fear of being caught still pulsed through Roy's veins, he did not want to spend his life subjected to the nasty criticisms and harsh taunts that usually accompanied the acts that they were performing. He did not consider himself gay, he would never think of himself gay, despite his current position submitting to another person of the same sex and thoroughly enjoying it. He was not gay. It was at that very moment that these feelings became clear deep within him, that he was not gay; he was just attracted to Maes Hughes.

Back than, Roy did very much believe in idealism, living in the now, and not really fathoming what was happening to him. For if you did not believe that it was happening to you – if you separated yourself from the situation – than it might as well have not been happening at that moment, or any for that matter. So it was than in the draped coating of darkness that he separated himself from the moment while still living it to its fullest. Despite the dragging finger nails across his delicate flesh, and the throaty moans that Maes was emitting, Roy was able to recognize how it did not exist, solely depending upon some sort of nonexistent base for feelings that they both had yet to shelter for each other. At that very moment he was not gay, simply because the moment was nonexistent and it was not happening. The theory worked to an extent, there was a period when things begun to stop working, like how a broken clock is right twice a day, Roy's idealist theories worked. And at that very moment the one thing that had the ability to ruin Roy's whole ideal happened – the dog started to bark.

The sound had come from nowhere; the sharp staccato bursts of high-pitched yelping filled the empty house scaring the boys, it was the Hughes family dog, a small terrier of some sort that had a loud mouth to match an even bigger ego. Maes was nearly dislodged from his position on top of Roy out of surprise, "Oh Shit." A colorful string of curses followed from both boys as they struggled to pull free out of the tangle of limbs and blankets. The signal was what they had both been dreading, it meant that they had miscalculated the days, that they had lost track of time. It meant that they might actually get caught.

"Shit Maes, you said that they wouldn't be home for another day." Roy whispered urgently as he tried to shift Maes's weight away from his own frail frame to no avail. "So I was wrong Roy, how was I supposed to know that they would come home a day early?" Maes snapped as he finally slipped out from underneath the large pile of blankets. He headed at a run towards the closest that was directly next to the bathroom, which he promptly tore open pulling a fresh pile of linens from the shelf. Roy struggled trying to rip free of the possessive hold that the blankets had around his body as he finally stumbled out of the bed falling face first into the carpeted floor.

_Oof._

"Shh….they will hear you!" Maes warned in a demanding whisper, as he snapped the bathroom light on near the closest and shut the door. He was heading back over towards the bed throwing the linens on the floor and spreading them out in a very disheveled and rumpled manner. The haphazard way, in which Maes went about making a "makeshift" bed for Roy, had the appearance that somebody had been sleeping in it for several days.

Roy was now pulling himself back onto the bed, as a distant female voice could be heard greeting the empty house, "Maaaaes! We're home!" The pleasant tones that the woman's voice held probably should have comforted both the boys if it had not been for their current situation. Maes was running around the room throwing all the scattered pieces of clothing into one large heap in the corner where it would be least noticeable in the dark room.

Moments later Maes shoved a still tangled Roy back up into the bed, throwing the covers up over him before climbing in again next to him. He had nearly forgotten the fact that they were both still completely stripped stark naked, which might have proved a major problem. "Hey wha-" Roy begun but was never able to finish because he was shoved underneath the covers and Maes was remaining silent. Throwing the blankets over Roy's face, and than trying to cover his mouth with a flying fist underneath the covers a muffled '_Ouch_' could be heard before the door opened.

"Maes, sweetie, we're home!" A female voice announced Roy was blind to the world, trying to remain quiet and undiscovered underneath the unnaturally high pile of blankets on Maes's bed. "Did you have a nice trip?" Maes asked, he sounded a little tired, he seemed to be playing cool in the situation, but Roy was having trouble telling. "Of course, it was lovely." Mrs. Hughes replied in the same sweet sounding tone. A distant rustling of fabric could be heard near the door as Roy found himself holding his breath hoping that they would not ask anything to prying. "Do you have someone over son?" Mr. Hughes's booming voice came next as footsteps were heard. Roy could see the tall man with the same square jaw that Maes had inherited inspecting the crumpled mess of blankets placed next to the bed. This same crumpled heap was supposed to be Roy's "bed" for the night. There was a pause of hesitation before the words begun to flow normally from Maes again, "Yeah Roy's over. He's in the bathroom." It wasn't the truth but it wasn't a noticeable lie because Roy was over. Maes's parents seemed to settle with this response because Roy was over a lot. A few sudden moments of silence passed and Roy almost thought that Maes's parents had left the room. He felt the urge to itch his lower thigh, which had been tingling during the whole ordeal. At first Roy resisted, waiting for the right moment, when he heard the door snap shut, but than the urge seemed to be getting worse.

Shifting uncomfortably under the covers was Roy's first mistake. Maes could feel the motion of his best friend moving beneath the covers and suddenly moved himself to try and make up for the first motion. Reaching his hand deeper beneath the covers, Maes tired to find a way to hold Roy down but he only succeeded in punching Roy in the face. "Ou-" Came the muted sound of Roy yelling out in pain beneath the covers, but the yell was cut short by Maes's hand covering Roy's mouth. Acting as if he had fallen into a loud coughing fit, Maes tried his best to imitate that dry hacking sound that someone usually perfected when under the influence of a cold. "Are you alright honey? You look a little pale." Mrs. Hughes observed it had been mere seconds since Maes had replied and already it was looking as if he was going to be found out. "Yeah, my throat is just a little dry." Maes commented a little to quickly. Mrs. Hughes gave him a suspicious look before Mr. Hughes seemed to have gotten the just of the idea. "Come on Honey, let's let him rest." A quick decision on Mr. Hughes part may have just saved Roy and Maes from their compromising position. Mrs. Hughes allowed herself to be dragged out of the room by a very forward Mr. Hughes after saying her goodbyes. "Goodnight Maes! Goodnight Roy, if you need anything feel free to wake me up!" Her sweet voice was louder than usual to penetrate the door to the bathroom. As soon as the door snapped shut, Maes threw back the covers to greet a very bed ruffled and agitated Roy Mustang who was gripping his left eye tightly. "You fucking socked me in the eye Maes!" Roy grumbled he was trying not to speak to loudly because Maes's parents were home now. "Well if you had just stayed still I wouldn't have had to." The protest was a feeble one but with the strength that was backed by Maes's voice Roy felt like he had already lost.

"Let me see it." Maes demanded trying to dislodge Roy's hand from his left eye. The hand clung to his face like cement as Roy refused to peel it away from his eye. "No.." The word came out as a whine and Maes had to admit Roy looked vulnerable holding his eye like that. Almost like a small child who had just dropped a full ice cream cone on the pavement. Finally after a few more minutes of coaxing and stroking Roy removed his fingers from the fresh bruise that was already beginning to blossom.

He would have a black eye for three solid weeks after that escapade.

* * *

The clank of Maes's glass being set on the table broke the deafening silence as he allowed a sly smile to slip across his lips. "Come on Roy I was just joking." He said lightly. There was no room for teasing between that line, it had always been a life or death affair and he knew that it was one of the few things that Roy took really seriously. "Let's move on." There was a hint of sternness behind Roy's voice, he seemed to be dismissing the matter but clearly he hadn't forgotten about it judging by the on his face.

**Plan of Action:** _(Outlines actions that the subordinate will do after the counseling session to reach the agreed upon goal(s). The actions must be specific enough to modify or maintain the subordinate's behavior and include a specific time line for implementationand assessment (Part IV below).)_

There it was written in italics the dreaded typo that Roy hated, he hated it more than anything in the world right now. Maybe even more than the witty remarks that Maes was throwing him from across the table. "What actions will you take to carry out said goals Lieutenant?" Roy was throwing rank around now, which indicated that Maes needed to lay off the teasing.

Cocking an eyebrow in Roy's direction, Maes had no clue how to respond. "I not the slightest idea Roy. I think it's your call." Maes replied slowly, he was trying to take action in the subtlest way he knew possible. He didn't want to agitate Roy anymore for the night because that might mean no meaningless but somehow meaningful sex. So Maes decided to try his hardest to keep his mouth shut at least until Roy had consumed enough liquor to not care much about what was being said anymore. Roy drained his glass as if in thought before reaching for more. He shamelessly filled his glass nearly brimming again and than paused to write something down before proceeding to drain half of it in a series of quick shots. Maes studied him through half-lidded eyes as he took another few swigs from his own glass. "I'm putting down that you're going to be more assertive during a time of opportunity, and that you will learn how to become more serious about your work. And than I'm also adding that you will learn the appropriate use of office equipment including a simple electronic device known simply as a 'phone.' I will have you practicing protocol for making phone calls long distance." The ratings were harsh but Roy didn't seem to show any remorse, Maes realized that he was still paying for his earlier remark. He had assumed that Roy would've taken the comment lightly too since it had been set forth in a good-hearted manner. But Roy hadn't been taking anything lightly as of late, with the news of a probable conflict between the Ishvallans and Amestrians why wouldn't he take everything seriously? Maes was still vaguely surprised that Roy had decided to show up for their meeting tonight especially with the ongoing flood of current events. "Well now that just kills the mood." Maes retorted as he took another swig of amber liquid practically draining his glass again. The bottle between them was beginning to look awful sparse in height now; the liquid inside was practically more than halfway gone. The forms were almost done Maes knew that the end was coming to a close.

The dry tone that Roy had taken last time he had spoken had almost made Maes wonder if after all the booze was gone that Roy would just be walking out. He didn't want to consider this fact because he wanted desperately for the man to stay, he needed Roy's company more than anything in the world currently, and it wasn't just for a 'good fuck.'

**Session Closing:** _(The leader summarizes the key points of the session and checks if the subordinate understands the plan of action. The subordinate agrees/disagrees and provides remarks if appropriate.)_

"You need to sign this." Roy remarked completely ignoring Maes's last sentence. The paper form was slide across the table in Maes's direction as Roy picked up his glass again. The alcohol had brought some color to his pale cheeks and charcoal eyes now seemed to gleam in the dimly lit kitchen. There were a few signs of remorse in his expression as if he seemed a little upset about having to be 'angry' with Maes. He had come here because he needed Maes company, he needed that solid shoulder within his reach for things had been quickly falling apart lately. Like a paper dropped into water his life was slowly folding and peeling at the seams.

Mae's fingers curled around the sheet on the table as he set it in front of where he was sitting. He knew better than to refuse to sign it, it would only mean more work for the both of them, so he was ready to comply with Roy's request. Pushing his chair back Maes walked across the kitchen to the telephone on the wall. Underneath it was a neat stack of paper and a few pens and pencils for taking notes. He grabbed a pen and hit the switch to the radio as he walked on back to his seat. The radio was ancient, it was small yet large at the same time sitting on the counter near the phone. As soon as the switch was thrown it buzzed to life with the latest news update.

This is the 9 o'clock news, Robert Shetline reporting here. For the latest in news this week we have reports coming from the Ishballan Front. Yes that's right ladies and gentlemen another war seems to be on the brink of falling into our laps. Tensions are running high in the deserts of Ishbal tonight as the formal investigation team FMIT, are looking into the beginning of the conflict. So far things are looking bleak for all our servicemen and servicewomen, Christmas is just around the corner and it seems as if they will be having a sandy one this year. It has been reported that Ishballan uprisings have become more frequent along the border towns, the government is still hesitant to declare war but measures of containment are being discussed. We will have more news tonight as the story slowly unfolds. Until than, have a goodnight folks! And now stay tuned for the daily weather report.

Maes was now realizing that turning on the news hadn't been the brightest of ideas, in fact it was beginning to look worse and worse as the news reporter begun to explain the complications of Ishbal. Maes had just done it to break the lapsing silences between them; he couldn't stand it when Roy refused to talk to him. Slumping in his chair Maes studied a very worried looking Roy Mustang from across the table as the radio begun to play a snazzy upbeat tune that went along with the weather forecast for tomorrow. Grabbing the paper, Maes quickly signed the lines that he knew were his to sign, trying to let Roy recover from hearing the broadcast.

"Roy…" Maes said gently, his citrine eyes looked hopeful as he picked up the paper and dropped his pen walking over to Roy. "Let's finish the bottle then go to bed Roy, I'll shut that damn thing off for you." He suggested.

* * *

Ten minutes after lights out Maes was already making a silent advance, Roy could feel his fingertips brushing along the hem of his own blanket. "Maes?" He questioned the dark, but the man that was now crawling onto the bed beside him did not answer right away. Roy's fingers felt for the familiar shape of his best friend and sometimes lover, Maes Hughes. "Maes…" Roy's voice was barely a whisper as Maes had situated himself on top of Roy and had begun to allow his fingers to wander, peeling the blankets away causally. It was on nights like these that Roy still found himself happy to be alive. He still had something to live for if it were nothing other than the man that was now lying stretched out on top of him.

The slit of ghostly yellow light emitting from beneath the door cast odd shadows throughout the room. Roy was able to focus on very little in the moments to come as Maes was occupying all his attention. The man had found the perfect spot to place his fingertips at the moment; they had slipped with some ease beneath the covers and now were pulling at Roy's boxers. He realized now that Maes always had perfect timing among a long list of other 'perfect' things.

* * *

"No Maes." The response was delayed and when it came it did nothing to break the icy silence that had developed. "We can't ignore what is happening. It is imminent. Right now war is impossible to avoid." His voice was flat, there was no emotion in it and the stoic expression on his face seemed to characterize that point. "Can't you see? We can't avoid this. We can't pretend these things do not exist! We have been trained as soldiers, when war calls we must answer." There was a great conviction behind Roy's words as he turned dark navy blue eyes to meet Maes's lighter ones. It was impossible to believe that something of such magnitude as war could be ignored even for a few seconds. Maybe these memories could be lost in a stream of liquor but in the end it would all come out the same and they would remember again. Roy was on his feet, his head bowed and his eyes threatening to betray his true worry about these topics. This had been the very thing that he had come here to get rid of, yet here was radio now spitting the facts back out at him. He wanted to remain lost, to forget, to ignore, to pretend that it wasn't happening, yet he knew that these things were impossible.

Most of all Roy found himself wishing for peace, he was scared of war, war changed people. But somehow he knew that if he were called to ship out, he would do so without hesitation. He would do it because it was expected of him, because that was what he was supposed to do. And even in the darkest hour he would refuse to shed a tear, he would refuse to look weak, and he would refuse to give in.

Roy's hands trembled on the tabletop; his palms were laid flat as he slammed his hands down on the table as if for emphasis on the point. His head was now thrown from side to side, and he was shaking violently, he appeared to be fighting some unknown invisible force.

"ROY." Maes's voice sounded so distant it made Roy feel as if he were stuck somewhere in long expanse of a tunnel. There was a light hand on his shoulder and for once, Roy felt like he wasn't the strong one. What was the use of breaking down before something was going to happen, it would only make him all the weaker. With this in mind, Roy brushed Maes's hand off his shoulder. "Roy…" Maes's voice was now softer, he was trying to comfort Roy even though he felt it an impossible task. He took a deep breath and blinked a few times before turning around to face his friend. Maes's arms looked so inviting that Roy could not fight the urge to fall into them. He realized how much he needed his friend's embrace and how much he needed this. Roy had been long overdue for this visit for weeks now, and here he was standing before Maes and he had yet to make a move of any sort. He was on the verge of a break down and the best thing to do was to swallow some more whiskey and vanish the ghastly thoughts of war from his mind. All the tears and the pain and the suffering in the world would not be able to vanquish the possibility of a war. The thought had already been well placed in the minds of a few corrupt politicians, and deals had already been brokered in the back alleys. The swing of life hung in the balance, and a thousand innocent human souls would be payment enough for the war in the end. Yes, the war could not be stopped.

So life would wrought it's inevitable course, and he would stand helpless within the flow. A spectator in a game where there were more losers than winners, and usually everything was life or death.

"Maes.." The name rolled from his thoughts onto his tongue in a sort of spoken sigh. "When people go to war they come back changed…. They come back broken." It was his greatest fear, he didn't want to be a different person, and he didn't want to be completely warped and torn apart shred by shred in some foreign country. "They come back dead." Navy blue eyes seemed to harden at the thought of death; life was so short -- life was just to damn short. Maes's strong arms were wrapped around him now and a light kiss was placed on the top of his head. Roy allowed himself to be held for a second, but than pushed away clawing at Maes and practically stumbling towards the wooden table.

* * *

It had been a clear night, so clear that the stars stood out in the dark skies. Stars stood out like brilliant little fiery balls of gas among a dark universe, light conquering the darkness with time still to spare. The man out on the drive knew all about darkness as he crept closer to the door, a green military issue bag weighing down his shoulders. The dark figure reached the porch and now loomed over the door, a finger sat hesitant at ringing the bell that would bring his wife to the door.

A young black-haired boy sat at the kitchen table, the remnants of that night's dinner lay on a plate in front of him. He looked content enough as he sat there, fidgeting in his chair and inquiring about dessert for that night. A woman was washing dishes in the yellowing sink nearby as an old radio crackled in the background trying to work its way through the bars of the latest hit songs. The lines in her face spoke only of worry; she worried for the things that she could not control and could not change. She was worrying for a man that was at over two hundred miles away, or at least to her knowledge he was, when in actuality he was standing on the front porch. There was a dim irony in this situation because he was far to early when the war was still raging somewhere on a patch of foreign soil out beyond the white picket fence in the front yard.

The dark haired man outside had resigned himself to pacing the doorstep as he had dropped his bag soundlessly at his own feet. His own troubled white-blue eyes seemed to speak only of the horrors that had befallen him in the past year. In the end he did not know if he could face those he loved again after what he had been forced to do. The look on his face now as he waited to make his next move seemed to guarantee a change in his usually aggressive nature. War ruined people so that must mean that he was ruined too. As a coward he had slunk back to his front porch, able to do nothing but gape at the horrors because his hands had trembled too much to pick up the rifle.

The croaky voice of the radio announcer seemed something like a distant whisper as the deafening sound of the doorbell shattered the peaceful calm. The woman at the sink dropped the plate that she had been scrubbing into the soapy water, allowing it to cling on the polished yellow porcelain of the sink. The boy at the table had now fallen silent, knowing very well that the doorbell ringing at this hour could only mean bad news, but he was still far to young to understand exactly what. It was far past 'visiting' hours in the Mustang household, so it made no sense that company would be just 'dropping by' besides no one had been invited over. The break in silence meant one of two things, he was alive, or he was dead. There had been no word from him for months, so this one sound now proved the deciding factor to prove or disprove her lingering suspicions.

She stepped down the hallway, her slippers brushing the smooth wooden floor, the raven-haired boy trailed a few steps behind her searching for a hiding spot within the folds of her skirt. The clear unmistakable outline of a man outside the front door stood out as a black shadow against the light of the porch. She reached out and wrapped her hand around the door handle, clinging to it much like one clings to some frail hope before she tore the door open letting in the gust of night air. There he was his back to the door his head hung low and his body slumped over, his stance suggested nothing of victory, pride, or honor, all the things that usually denoted a war hero or a victor, they all led to the same word, the one that would not be spoken. As he turned around in the light to face her the pale complexion his face held struck her as odd for they had been fighting in the desert, a place where the sun was in abundance. The small boy peered around his mother's skirt to stare at the strange figure that he had yet to really know. This broken image was his father, the hero that he had heard stories about, the one that was now reduced to nothing. It was not until she noticed the defeated look glinting in his eyes that she realized that he was broken, possibly beyond the point of being fixed this time.

* * *

Roy's fingers wrapped claw-like around the bottle of liquor on the table, he was now pressing the bottle to his lips. Amber liquid drained quickly into the cavity of Roy's mouth as he barely stopped for a breath in between sips. Maes was quick to react to Roy's new zeal for drinking, his hands outstretched wrapping around Roy's own. "Stop it! Do you plan to drown yourself in liquor? It's not going to solve anything." Maes insisted, his powerful hands had wrapped around Roy's own, pulling the bottle away from the other man's lips. "Roy, look at me!" Maes shouted sharply, this wasn't getting anywhere, the element of fun had all been lost and the mood was slowly being spoiled. Roy slowly turned his head towards Maes, his navy blue eyes searching for something that he could hold onto. He was slowly beginning to feel a crashing light-headed feeling coming on from taking more than three consecutive large shots of whiskey. The bottle was almost empty now, and he had nearly forgotten what the fuss was about.

Before Maes could comprehend exactly what happened, he was gripping the whiskey bottle and Roy had all but raped him. Roy's hands were running down his sides and he was being forcibly pushed against the kitchen counter, all earlier exchanges now forgotten. Roy was roughly kissing his lips; it was a hungry sort of passion that was now flowing between them. The rough exchange of tenderness could easily have been mistaken for something more. Maes could only clasp Roy loosely, helpless within the other's drunken embrace. A messy stream of kisses was placed along the line of his jaw, as Roy panted and continued to allow things to run their course. He was acting as if nothing had happened; it was an act that was easy to see through. It was almost pathetic. "Roy." Maes found himself trying again to get Roy's withering attention it was useless really. "ROY! I'm not going to disappear! Slow down, I want to enjoy this." Maes tried to raise his voice but it was impossible, as Roy's fingers had now slipped low over the half-hardened bulge in his pants.

"Give me back the bottle Maes." His voice was slightly slurred, but overall it was the same commanding tone that Roy usually possessed when he wanted something. "No." Maes refused Roy the one thing that he knew would only make matters worse. From the sound of things Roy was already going downhill, he didn't want him to be completely smashed for the possible later events that would come tonight. It was equally hard for Maes to resist Roy's request because Roy was now placing his fingers in the place where he would find little resistance. A small gasp threatened to take his breath away as he clasped Roy's cupped hand lightly in his own to prevent the inevitable attack and response. "I know what happened Roy, but you can't change those things, this isn't going to help things either. Let's look to the now instead of the future." Maes suggested softly, he looked at the last remaining liquid in the bottle. It was just enough. The best thing that he could think of doing with it was properly disposing of it. "Here's to tonight." Maes added as he gripped the neck of the bottle tightly and chugged the last of the amber liquid with a sort of weird smile across his face. It was ironic how he had been refusing Roy what he had wanted. He knew what Roy was like, his habits were self-destructive, and even though the move had been hypocritical he felt like he was doing Roy a favor. He had definitely saved him from a worse than promised hangover tomorrow morning, but some aches imposed by tonight's activities would not be as easily quelled.

"What did you do that for!" Roy's voice might as well have been a shriek as he tried to snatch the empty bottle out of Maes's hands. "Come now Roy, you think I'd let you have the whole bottle." If Roy really was a little intoxicated with the right words Maes had a feeling that he could convince him to forget. Roy just stared, there might have been a heated hatred behind his navy eyes but his expression was always hard to read. Maes's fingers now lightly brushed Roy's cheek and his other hand was slowly sliding up Roy's side. He placed a kiss on the expressionless lips, and than tried to deepen it finding to his surprise that the mouth on the end other was actually rather willing. Maes's hand slid easily up Roy's lined waist and underneath the wrinkled white button-down shirt. He easily flipped Roy against the yellowed kitchen counter gaining dominance. Maes attacked Roy's lips, nipping, biting, and kissing him hungrily. Roy was a bit slower to react, allowing himself to be caressed and kissed, his own hands encircled Maes's neck. He was pulling Maes closer, and slowly taking a few steps backwards letting Maes lead. Maes got the hint and slowly but surely they progressed in a sort of suspended waltz, a dance in the general direction of Maes's messy bed. Items blocking the way toppled in every direction as the room was slowly turned upside down for the sake of pleasure. Maes had a feeling that he would get his wish.


End file.
